Part 12 (1/2)

'It is now, Alice,' Tom said, not smiling. 'Is it time to go?'

'Yes,' she said, and then-perhaps still not entirely comfortable being the one to make the decisions-she looked at Clay.

'Yes,' he said. 'North.'

'Fine with me,' Alice said.

'Yeah,' Tom said. 'North. Let's do it.'

GAITEN ACADEMY.

1.

When rainy daylight arose the next morning, Clay, Alice, and Tom were camped in the barn adjacent to an abandoned horse-farm in North Reading. They watched from the door as the first groups of crazyfolk began to appear, flocking southwest on Route 62 in the direction of Wilmington. Their clothes looked uniformly soaked and shabby. Some were without shoes. By noon they were gone. Around four, as the sun broke through the clouds in long, spoking rays, they began flocking back in the direction from which they had come. Many were munching as they walked. Some were helping those who were having a hard time walking on their own. If there were acts of murder today, Clay, Tom, and Alice did not see any.

Perhaps half a dozen of the crazies were lugging large objects that looked familiar to Clay; Alice had found one in the closet of Tom's guest bedroom. The three of them had stood around it, afraid to turn it on.

'Clay?' Alice asked. 'Why are some of them carrying boomboxes?'

'I don't know,' he said.

'I don't like it,' Tom said. 'I don't like the flocking behavior, I don't like them helping each other, and I like seeing them with those big portable sound-systems least of all.'

'There's only a few with-' Clay began.

'Check her out, right there,' Tom interrupted, pointing to a middle-aged woman who was staggering up Highway 62 with a radio/CD player the size of a living room ha.s.sock cradled in her arms. She held it against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as though it were a sleeping toddler. Its power-cord had come out of the little storage compartment in back and dragged beside her on the road. 'And you don't see any of them carrying lamps or toasters, do you? What if they're programmed to set up battery-powered radios, turn them on, and start broadcasting that tone, pulse, subliminal message, whatever-it-is? What if they want to get the ones they missed the first time?'

They. The ever-popular paranoid The ever-popular paranoid they. they. Alice had produced her little sneaker from somewhere and was squeezing it in her hand, but when she spoke, her voice was calm enough. 'I don't think that's it,' she said. Alice had produced her little sneaker from somewhere and was squeezing it in her hand, but when she spoke, her voice was calm enough. 'I don't think that's it,' she said.

'Why not?' Tom asked.

She shook her head. 'I can't say. Just that it doesn't feel right.'

'Woman's intuition?' He was smiling, but he wasn't sneering.

'Maybe,' she said, 'but I think one thing's obvious.'

'What's that, Alice?' Clay asked. He had an idea what she was going to say, and he was right.

'They're getting smarter. Not on their own, but because they're thinking together. Probably that sounds crazy, but I think it's more likely than them collecting a big pile of battery-powered FM suitcases to blast us all into loony-land.'

'Telepathic group-think,' Tom said. He mulled it over. Alice watched him do it. Clay, who had already decided she was right, looked out the barn door at the last of the day. He was thinking they needed to stop somewhere and pick up a road-atlas.

Tom was nodding. 'Hey, why not? After all, that's probably what flocking is: is:telepathic group-think.'

'Do you really think so or are you just saying that to make me-'

'I really think so,' he said. He reached out and touched her hand, which was now squeezing the little sneaker rapidly. 'I really really do. Give that thing a rest, will you?'

She gave him a fleeting, distracted smile. Clay saw it and thought again how beautiful she was, how really beautiful. And how close to breaking. 'That hay looks soft and I'm tired. I think I'll take a nice long nap.'

'Get down with your bad self,' Clay said.

2.

Clay dreamed that he and Sharon and Johnny-Gee were having a picnic behind their little house in Kent Pond. Sharon had spread her Navajo blanket on the gra.s.s. They were having sandwiches and iced tea. Suddenly the day went dark. Sharon pointed over Clay's shoulder and said, 'Look! Telepaths!' But when he turned that way, he saw nothing but a flock of crows, one so huge it blotted out the sun. Then a tinkling began. It sounded like the Mister Softee truck playing the Sesame Street Sesame Street theme song, but he knew it was a ring-tone, and in his dream he was terrified. He turned back and Johnny-Gee was gone. When he asked Sharon where he was-already dreading, already knowing the answer-she said Johnny had gone under the blanket to answer his cell phone. There was a b.u.mp in the blanket. Clay dove under, into the overpowering smell of sweet hay, shouting for Johnny not to pick up, not to answer, reaching for him and finding instead only the cold curve of a gla.s.s ball: the paperweight he'd bought in Small Treasures, the one with the haze of dandelion fluff floating deep down inside like a pocket fog. theme song, but he knew it was a ring-tone, and in his dream he was terrified. He turned back and Johnny-Gee was gone. When he asked Sharon where he was-already dreading, already knowing the answer-she said Johnny had gone under the blanket to answer his cell phone. There was a b.u.mp in the blanket. Clay dove under, into the overpowering smell of sweet hay, shouting for Johnny not to pick up, not to answer, reaching for him and finding instead only the cold curve of a gla.s.s ball: the paperweight he'd bought in Small Treasures, the one with the haze of dandelion fluff floating deep down inside like a pocket fog.

Then Tom was shaking him, telling him it was past nine by his watch, the moon was up, and if they were going to do some more walking they ought to get at it. Clay had never been so glad to wake up. On the whole, he preferred dreams of the Bingo Tent.

Alice was looking at him oddly.

'What?' Clay said, checking to make sure their automatic weapon was safetied-that was already becoming second nature to him.

'You were talking in your sleep. You were saying, Don't answer it, don't answer it.' '

'n.o.body should have answered it,' Clay said. 'We all would have been better off.' should have answered it,' Clay said. 'We all would have been better off.'

'Ah, but who can resist a ringing phone?' Tom asked. 'And there goes your ballgame.'

'Thus spake f.u.c.kin Zarathustra,' Clay said. Alice laughed until she cried.

3.

With the moon racing in and out of the clouds-like an ill.u.s.tration in a boy's novel of pirates and buried treasure, Clay thought-they left the horse-farm behind and resumed their walk north. That night they began to meet others of their own kind again.